


Bruises

by mean_whale



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - No Voldemort, Angst, Crying, Domestic Violence, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Mild Blood, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Post-Hogwarts, Splinching (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:47:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25713805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mean_whale/pseuds/mean_whale
Summary: Remus discovers that Sirius has been keeping secrets from his friends.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Original Male Character(s), Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 18
Kudos: 179
Collections: Marauders, Wolfstar Hurt Fest





	Bruises

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Sirius gets beaten up by his boyfriend and Remus helps tend his injuries
> 
> A big thank-you to my beta rosemaldrge, who really helped push this fic to the right direction!

For the first time in months, Remus allows himself to be cautiously optimistic; he's found a new job, and because his employer is a Muggle, there is no chance of him becoming suspicious of Remus' monthly absences. Remus told him that he has a medical condition that requires him to take a couple of days off for treatment every month and was pleasantly surprised by how sympathetic Mr. Harris was.

Mr. Harris also took that as an explanation for why Remus has no prior work experience, since Remus had to keep quiet about his various jobs in the magical world. He happily let Mr. Harris believe it.

With an uncharacteristic spring in his step, Remus turns the corner to the small alley he has chosen as an Apparition point, only to stop dead in his tracks. In the alleyway stands a familiar figure, leaning heavily against the brick wall beside him, posture oddly stiff.

“Sirius?”

Sirius snaps his head up, then grimaces. He closes his eyes and takes a deep rattling breath through his mouth. He's holding a hand over his nose, the skin of his knuckles is scraped, and there's blood on his chin.

Remus hasn’t seen Sirius in a while – at this point it has probably been weeks. Remus has been preoccupied with desperately trying to find a job that would keep paying his rent for just a bit longer, so he doesn’t have to go back home or finally accept charity from James who has been pestering him about accepting help when he clearly needs it, and he hasn’t had time to properly consider Sirius’ absence.

He had felt odd for a while now, and it is at this moment that Remus realises that it has felt weird because Sirius hasn’t been joining in with James, trying to make Remus see that it’s not bad to accept money from his friends who are so well off that they would probably not need to work a day in their lives if they so wished, but who also do not understand what it’s like to always feel like a burden on the people around him: if not monetarily, then just by being a sickly werewolf.

This Sirius, however, doesn’t seem like he’s about to pester Remus about anything anytime soon, and it’s completely unexpected. Remus has no idea how he’s supposed to react. Sirius has been gone so much that sometimes he has started feeling like a dream.

“What in Merlin's name,” Remus whispers.

Sirius chuckles darkly, the last of his chuckles resembling sobs, and rests his head against the wall, eyes still closed. This Sirius is at odds with the Sirius Remus has in his head: the carefree young man who is a master at pretending that everything's perfectly fine when it really isn't, especially when it comes to him being hurt. Remus isn't used to seeing his pain; Sirius would go on as usual, carefully hiding any signs of discomfort, which was always made easier by his high tolerance for pain.

Sirius is wearing a red shirt, his sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and light blue jeans. There’s a blood stain on his thigh. The sight of it helps Remus finally find his legs, and he hurries forward. Sirius recoils when Remus attempts to place a hand on his arm. He seems smaller than usual, hunched over himself, and when he opens his eyes, they are watering. Remus frowns when Sirius avoids eye contact.

“Right,” Remus says decisively. “You're coming with me.”

Sirius opens his mouth wider and starts lowering his hand as if to speak, but Remus has already taken a firm hold of his arm and Apparates them to an alley close to his flat. Sirius looks bewildered, so Remus doesn't let go of his arm, merely loosens his hold to guide Sirius into the building and up the stairs. He doesn't let go before Sirius is safely in his flat and sitting on the tatty sofa in his living room.

It seems that Sirius has finally gathered his wits and now looks alert, hand still hiding his nose. He's breathing heavily through his mouth, eyes still unusually wet while he looks around the room as if he's never been there before.

“Let's see then,” Remus says and gently takes Sirius' hand to lower it from his face.

Sirius hesitates before letting Remus move his hand. Remus tries but can't completely swallow his gasp. Sirius' nose is obviously broken: crooked and bruised and steadily dripping blood. Even looking at it hurts.

“What happened to you?” Remus asks.

Sirius doesn't say anything. He gingerly touches his nose, lets out a distressed whine and quickly pulls his hand away. He looks down at it. There is blood on his palm and his fingers are trembling.

Remus immediately takes out his wand and is about to point it at Sirius' nose, when Sirius grabs his wrist with his bloody hand.

“No,” Sirius says, sounding almost hysterical.

“Padfoot,” Remus says, trying to keep his voice calm but firm and reasonable. “Your nose is broken. It needs to be fixed.”

“Remus, Moony,” Sirius says, looking Remus straight in the eye, and he has never looked as solemn. “You can't do anything to the bruising. It's very important.”

Sirius' eyes are intense and there's a gleam of something Remus has never seen in them before. He doesn't know what it means, but it can't be anything good considering the situation.

“It's important,” Sirius repeats, getting increasingly agitated.

“I understand,” Remus says as calmly as he can while his heart is beating increasingly erratically. “I will only heal your nose. I promise, Padfoot.”

Sirius' eyes are burning as he keeps looking at Remus.

“You can trust me,” Remus adds. “I won't do anything else. I promise.”

The odd look in Sirius' eyes doesn't completely go away, but he gradually lets go of Remus' wrist. Slowly, ever so slowly, Remus lifts his wand and aims it at Sirius' nose.

“ _Episkey_ ,” he says, voice not much louder than a whisper.

Sirius makes a series of complicated faces before letting out a huge sigh and slumping back against the sofa.

“Fuck,” he says, almost smiling. “I didn't realise how much that was hurting.”

Remus raises his brows questioningly. Sirius closes his eyes, looking at ease. He seems quite happy to remain in his state of relaxation, face calm and beautiful. It makes Remus think back to when they were still at Hogwarts, when he and Sirius were the only ones left in the common room late at night, Sirius lightly tipsy and listening to Remus talk about a book he was reading that Remus knew Sirius had no interest in.

Remus shakes his head and looks at the bloodstain on Sirius' thigh.

“Let's see your leg, then,” he says.

Sirius' eyes snap open.

“What do you mean?” he demands, raising his head to properly look at Remus. “What about my leg?”

Remus is sure that his eyes cannot get any wider or his brows any higher. He knows that Sirius has a high tolerance for pain, but apparently, Sirius has not even noticed that he has a bleeding wound on him. Remus gestures towards Sirius' lap.

“You've bled on your jeans,” he deadpans.

Sirius frowns and looks down, his eyes going comically wide, and Remus wishes that he could laugh, that the situation wasn't fucked up and unnerving.

“Merlin's balls,” Sirius says. “I must have splinched myself. Oh, shit.”

Sirius hurries to open his jeans but doesn’t manage. His fingers are twitching nervously.

“Sirius,” Remus says and places a hand on Sirius' arm. “Let me help you.”

Sirius goes still but moves his hands out of the way. He remains frozen in place as Remus carefully pops open his button and zips down his fly. Remus can't help thinking back to the times when he's dreamed of stripping Sirius out of his trousers. He viciously pushes those thoughts away as soon as they appear, stands up, and offers a hand to Sirius, who spends a moment just staring at it. He glances at Remus' face before taking the offered hand, and Remus pulls him upright. Before Sirius can do or say anything, Remus tugs his jeans down to expose his thighs.

Remus tries to focus on the small chunk of flesh that's missing from Sirius' left thigh, he tries his hardest to remain blind to everything else, but he cannot help his eyes quickly taking in the bruises on Sirius' legs. Remus swallows heavily and resolutely turns his eyes to the wound that has thankfully stopped bleeding. He squats down to get a better look at it.

“It's not too bad,” he says lightly and looks up at Sirius, who is looking down at him, face mostly hidden by the shadow cast by his hair, eyes incomprehensible.

Remus turns to look at the wound again. It's lucky that the splinch is so small. He raises his wand slowly and looks up at Sirius.

“I'll only heal the splinch, yeah?” he says and tries to smile nonchalantly. He's sure he fails.

For a beat, Sirius remains still, then nods almost imperceptibly. Remus turns to look at the wound, aims his wand, and whispers the charm. The moment the wound is gone, Sirius pulls his jeans up. He's trembling. Remus stands up.

Sirius is still hunched in on himself in a way Remus has never seen before. He wishes that Sirius' hair wasn't hiding so much of his face. Remus gestures at him to sit down, and after hesitating for a moment too long, Sirius does.

“Let me clean your face for you,” Remus says.

Sirius looks confused.

“You still have blood on your face,” Remus says. “From your nose.”

There's a flash of understanding in Sirius' eyes. He thinks, then nods.

Remus contemplates using magic but ends up finding a clean piece of flannel instead. He wets it with warm water and carefully washes the dry blood off Sirius' face, gently wiping over his lips. His left hand is holding Sirius' chin to keep his head still. His heart is beating too fast; he's cleaning blood off Sirius' face, realising that Sirius also has a minor contusion on the top of his left cheek, but all he can really think about is how he would give almost anything to kiss Sirius.

He pulls away immediately after all the blood is gone. Sirius flashes him a bright and overly confident smile that doesn't reach his eyes. It makes Remus' stomach squirm uncomfortably. He smiles back, then hurries to go wash the flannel in the bathroom.

When he comes back, Sirius is sitting stiffly on the sofa, and Remus doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“Want a cuppa?” he asks, glancing towards the stove at the other end of the room.

Sirius nods, and Remus is relieved to have something concrete to do again. He prepares the tea the Muggle way to give himself time to calm down. Something odd is going on, something is badly wrong, and he doesn't know what it is. He doesn't know how to find out. Sirius seems withdrawn in the same way he always is when the subject of his family comes up. Something about his posture reminds Remus of the time when Sirius showed up on the Hogwarts Express with a barely visible bruise on his face and James tried asking him about it. Sirius shut that conversation down quickly.

Remus returns to the sofa with two cups of tea and offers Sirius one. Sirius gives him a weak smile in thanks, but it disappears far too quickly. Remus sits down next to him and doesn't miss how he immediately goes stiff.

“So,” Remus says before the silence can stretch into awkwardness. “What happened to you?”

Sirius takes a sip of his tea, even though it must be scalding. Remus watches him swallow it slowly.

“I just,” Sirius starts, sounding uncertain. He clears his throat, suddenly becoming very interested in the contents of his cup. “I tripped… and fell into a wall.”

Remus waits, but when nothing else is forthcoming, he asks, “And how come you splinched yourself?”

“I,” Sirius says, then takes another mouthful of his tea, taking his time with it. “I freaked out and tried to… I wanted to go to… I thought… I was looking for you?”

Remus doesn't like the way Sirius is stumbling over his words or how unsure he sounds by the end of his slow ramble. There is no trace of Sirius' usual energy, none of his confidence that so easily slips into cockiness. Remus feels like he's sitting with someone else, not Sirius Black at all, just someone wearing his skin.

“You know,” he says, watching Sirius from the corner of his eye, “you could have said that you splinched yourself and the sudden pain of it made you trip and fall into a wall.”

Sirius frowns. He opens his mouth but doesn't say anything. Remus turns his head just enough to watch him closely.

“Well, fuck,” Sirius then spits, seemingly talking to himself.

“Yes,” Remus agrees. “So, what really happened?”

Sirius glances at him warily, looking quite openly calculating, and Remus wonders if Sirius really thinks he doesn't notice.

“I got into a bit of a fight,” Sirius says quietly, then laughs obnoxiously loudly. “You should see the other guy.”

Remus sighs. “What are you doing getting into fights?” he asks, turning to look into his cup.

Sirius says nothing. Remus waits, but the silence persists.

“Alright,” Remus says, slowly turning to look at Sirius again. “Why won't you let me heal your bruises?”

Sirius immediately snaps his head around to look at Remus.

“You can't!” he says frantically. “You promised, Moony!”

Remus can't help frowning as he says, “I know. I won't do anything if you really don't want me to, but at least explain why.”

“Paul will be suspicious,” Sirius says immediately.

That gives Remus pause. What does Sirius' Muggle boyfriend have to do with anything? Remus squints at Sirius as if it will help him make sense of things.

“How would he even know you got beaten up?” he asks.

Sirius presses his lips tightly together and looks away. Suddenly, there is a heavy boulder in Remus' stomach.

“How would he know?” Remus asks again, his insides quickly growing cold.

Sirius still doesn't say anything, but he seems to be thinking fast, his eyes erratically sweeping over the coffee table.

“If he knows,” Remus says and swallows heavily, “then he was there, right?”

Sirius frowns.

“But if he was there,” Remus continues, each word making the boulder inside him grow heavier and colder, until he feels like his insides are freezing, “why didn't he help you?”

Sirius presses his hands tightly against his teacup. The scrapes on his knuckles look strikingly red against his pale skin.

“Why did you Disapparate away from him?” Remus asks. “Why would you need to do that?”

Sirius cringes but remains quiet.

“Sirius,” Remus says, and his voice has never been so soft and frightened. “Did he do this to you?”

Sirius shakes his head but keeps his eyes averted. He's keenly watching what's still left of his tea, how it swirls in his cup as his hands sway softly. His shoulders remain slumped.

The horrible understanding is slowly washing over Remus, in waves of ice. He carefully places his cup on the coffee table. Neither he nor Sirius speak for a moment. The silence is deafening.

“Why would he…” Remus tries to ask but the boulder in his gut is weighing down his words. “How could he?”

“It's not what you think,” Sirius finally says, voice snappish, a heavy frown on his face, eyes keenly watching his teacup. “It's not… It's my fault. I was being a little shit.”

“Sirius,” Remus starts to say, but Sirius doesn't let him speak.

“No, Moony,” he says impatiently. “You don't know anything. It's not what you think.”

“Then explain it to me,” Remus says. He wants to be just as impatient and angry, but he forces it down. “What is it, then? If it's not what I think, then what is it?”

“It's,” Sirius says, then fumbles for words for a moment. “I told you, it was my fault. I was being awful.”

“Sirius,” Remus says, and even though his voice is soft, there's something in his tone that's enough to keep Sirius quiet. “No matter what you did, you didn't deserve that.”

Sirius frowns at his tea.

“It's not about deserving,” he says, now quiet as well. “It's just that… It doesn't matter, Remus.”

“Of course it matters.”

“No!” Sirius shouts, slamming his cup on the table, spilling tea all over it. “It's fine!”

“It's not fine!” Remus yells, annoyed at himself for losing his composure but unable to stay calm. “There's nothing fine in it! There's nothing you could possibly have done that would make it okay for him to break your fucking nose.”

Remus gestures wildly at Sirius' face, and Sirius flinches. Remus immediately freezes.

“Merlin,” Remus whispers. He lowers his hand slowly and swallows. He shakes his head, takes a deep breath, and then says, “Fuck, Sirius. I'm not going to hit you.”

“I didn't think you were,” Sirius says, but his voice is just as pinched as his posture.

Remus looks at him. Sirius' hands are wet with tea. Remus wants to murder Paul, then he wants to stay with Sirius and protect him so he'll never hurt again. He never wants to see Sirius flinch away from him again. He never wants to make Sirius feel threatened around him again.

“You're making a big deal of it,” Sirius says. “It really isn't.”

Remus doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know what to say. He doesn't know if Sirius genuinely believes that there's nothing wrong or if denying it is his way of protecting himself from feeling like a victim. He looks at Sirius, who's sitting there next to him but seems like he's worlds away.

Remus used to think that he understands his friends. With them, he used to feel like he could garner what they want just from a look, but especially with Sirius. He always felt a different kind of connection between himself and Sirius. This Sirius, however, is a closed book, there's no connection, and what if there never will be again?

“It's not usually like this,” Sirius says quietly.

For a while now, it has seemed like Sirius is drifting away from them. He's often busy or having a date night with Paul, and in the light of what Remus has just learned, it all feels suspiciously like excuses. There is a heavy weight over Remus, but it must be heavier over Sirius.

What happened? What did Sirius do to cause Paul to break his nose?

Remus is ready to bet that it wasn't anything in particular.

He wonders how often it has happened but finds that he doesn't really want to know. Having seen what Sirius is hiding under his trousers, he can guess. His mind has already been working out how long it takes for a bruise to heal to a particular colour, and he already knows that the bruises on Sirius' thighs span quite some time, they didn't all happen at once, but he doesn't really want to know.

He doesn't want to know what else Sirius is hiding under his clothes, he doesn't want to know what happened that scraped his knuckles raw, and he doesn't want to know how it started and when.

He also needs to know, he needs all the details, but Sirius is never going to give them.

Remus sighs.

“Padfoot,” he says softly, afraid that a louder voice will shatter what little remains of their connection. “I know you don't want me to heal them, but will you at least let me put some healing salve on your bruises? It's the cheap crappy salve I use, so it's not going to make a huge difference.”

Sirius bites his lip.

“Please?” Remus tries. “It will ease the pain.”

Sirius takes a long time to consider before quietly asking, “You promise it's not going to make them disappear?”

“I promise, Padfoot,” Remus says. “You've seen me use it on myself. You've seen that the bruises hardly even fade.”

“Okay,” Sirius says but he doesn't look happy about it.

Remus gets up and fetches the jar of salve from his bedroom before Sirius changes his mind. Sirius is looking warily at the jar, and Remus smiles at him encouragingly.

“Wherever you have fresh bruises,” Remus says, opening the jar. “I noticed you had one on your knee.”

Sirius hesitates. Remus gives him the time, turning around to carelessly charm the coffee table dry and to send their teacups to the sink. He then turns to look at Sirius again, but glances away often enough not to stare. Sirius eventually stands up and opens his fly, pushing down his jeans to expose his thighs and knees.

Remus flashes him a smile, scoops up some of the salve before placing the jar on the table, and kneels down to gently rub the salve into Sirius' skin. Sirius is breathing heavily. Remus intently stares at the knee in front of him to stop himself from thinking. There is only one bruise. There are no other bruises. Nothing caused them, they just are.

Once the bruise is covered, Remus gives a cursory look at the rest of the visible bruises, but none of them look as fresh. He hesitates.

“Aren't you going to treat the rest?” Sirius asks quietly.

Remus looks up. Sirius' eyes are wide and wet, his mouth an uncertain line. He has tucked his hair behind his ears, but strands of it are stubbornly hanging over his face. Remus can't help thinking about what else he could be doing on his knees in front of Sirius. He feels his cheeks heat up and quickly turns to look down again.

“Yes,” he says as he takes more salve into his hands and starts carefully rubbing it over Sirius' thighs.

There must be something wrong with him. How can he think about sex when Sirius is so vulnerable and trusting? He has been successfully pushing those thoughts and feelings away for years, so why is it suddenly so difficult?

He stares at the bruises blossoming on Sirius' thighs and tries not to think about how soft the skin feels under his own calloused palms. He focuses on the bruises, wondering about the pain lurking behind each one. On the side of Sirius' right thigh there is a bruise with a sharp edge, and Remus wonders it was cause by Sirius hitting a table.

He doesn't like imagining Sirius in pain, Sirius being pushed around, Sirius no longer fighting back because he has given up. Remus glances up. Would Paul have managed to break his nose if Sirius was fighting back? Is this not even the first time that something so big happened? Where was Sirius going when he Apparated to the dingy alleyway?

“Are there any more?” Remus asks. “Your calves?”

Sirius thinks for a moment, then nudges the right side of his jeans a bit lower. Remus helps by pulling them down enough to expose a bruise that's still relatively fresh. He doesn't say anything, just scoops up more salve and rubs it in as gently as he can.

After Remus is done, Sirius pulls his jeans back up, but this time he doesn't do it as abruptly as he did before. Remus stands up.

“Was that it?” he asks.

Sirius looks at him, eyes stormy grey and cautious, a small frown appearing on his face. Then, without a word, he takes his shirt off.

Remus barely manages to stop the gasp that tries to escape his throat. He's not sure what he was expecting but finding out for certain that the bruises on Sirius' legs are not the only ones on his body makes him ache.

The bruises aren't numerous, mostly they are older, but there is a big fresh one on Sirius' back. Without a word, Remus reaches for the salve again and gets to work. Sirius' muscles twitch when Remus touches the fresh bruise, but he remains stationary. Remus feels him still breathe unusually heavily.

Remus looks at the greenish imprint of fingers on Sirius' bicep.

“Why do you stay with him?” he finds himself asking.

Sirius is quiet. Remus isn't sure whether Sirius had even heard him. He turns around to the coffee table for more salve.

When he turns back and starts working the salve into the finger-shaped bruises, Sirius quietly says, “He loves me.”

Remus doesn't know what to say. He knows exactly what he wants to say, but it would make Sirius pull away. He wishes that he could erase Paul completely. He wishes that Sirius had never met him, that something would have hindered Paul from ever reaching Sirius on the dancefloor that night last summer. He wishes that he had said no when Sirius suggested they go to a gay club. He wishes that he had decided to dance with Sirius in spite of everything and kept everyone from approaching either of them. He wishes that he hadn’t left for a smoke only to come back and find Sirius gone, learning a few days later that Sirius had met an older man and was now in a relationship.

He wishes that Sirius loved him instead, wanted him instead.

“It's not right,” he says quietly, and he's not sure who he's talking to. “It's not right.”

Sirius says nothing. Remus nudges him to turn around, and Sirius does. Remus winces when he starts working on the bruise right over Sirius' ribs. That one could have been much worse than a mere bruise.

Was it worse than a bruise? Did Sirius fix his broken bones himself?

“Where did you mean to go when you Disapparated?” Remus asks, glancing at Sirius' face.

Sirius doesn't meet his eyes. He's looking down at Remus' hand.

“Away,” he says.

Remus waits. Sirius doesn't say anything else.

“Were you going to fix your own nose?” Remus asks.

Sirius remains quiet. Remus doesn't dare ask how many times Sirius has Disapparated away from his boyfriend to fix himself before going back, bruised and battered but with his bones intact.

Remus allows his hand to rest over Sirius' ribs for just a moment before reaching for Sirius' hand. Sirius tilts his head up but doesn't try to stop him. Remus takes Sirius' hand in his own, then softly smears some of the healing salve over his knuckles.

Sirius hisses, and Remus wonders if he genuinely did not feel enough pain to react to Remus touching his bruises or if he was too unprepared to have Remus also touch his knuckles to keep it in now. Is it getting harder for him to keep pretending that it doesn't hurt so much?

Remus can't help letting his hands linger on Sirius', the skin warm and soft under his touch.

“It's okay,” Sirius says.

Remus looks at him, but Sirius won't meet his eyes. Remus lets his gaze trail over the bruising developing under Sirius' left eye. He dips his fingertips in the healing salve, then uses his clean hand to guide Sirius' head up. Sirius looks at him. His lashes are thick and dark, but the look in his eyes is still wrong, and it makes Remus uneasy.

Carefully, Remus lifts his hand and presses his fingertips against Sirius' face. Slowly, he works the salve first over the small contusion on his cheekbone, then over the bruising, eyes fixated on his own fingers, but he can feel Sirius' gaze on him. It's unnerving. He lets his hand rest against Sirius' cheek, stroking the skin right under the fresh bruise with his thumb.

“It's not usually like this,” Sirius says.

Remus wishes that he could believe it. His thumb is still absently rubbing Sirius' cheek. He sighs.

“I would never hurt you like this,” he whispers.

“What?” Sirius asks, quiet but sharp.

Remus bites his lip. He didn't mean to say it, and he isn't sure if he would have wanted Sirius to hear it at all. He keeps his hands where they are and reluctantly looks Sirius in the eye.

“I said,” he starts, but his voice is too quiet and broken, so he clears his throat. “I said that if it were me, I would never have hurt you like this.”

Sirius' eyes are wide as they assess Remus' face. They are flitting back and forth over Remus, and Remus lets him look, keeping his own eyes trained on Sirius. His heart is beating out of his chest and he wonders if Sirius can hear it as clearly as he does.

“Moony,” Sirius says, voice rough and eyes wild.

He doesn't say anything more, just keeps staring. Remus doesn't know what to say, so he keeps quiet. He's said enough. Now Sirius knows. Slowly, he slides his hand down to Sirius' bare shoulder, even more slowly he releases the hold he still had on Sirius' chin.

The silence is starting to stretch into awkwardness, when Sirius, voice even rougher than before, says, “You can't say that to me now.”

“Why?”

Sirius opens his mouth, but for a moment, no voice comes out. Then, there is a quiet whimper, before he says, “I can't…”

He swallows heavily. Remus wonders if he's swallowed his words and will leave the thought hanging between them, letting Remus draw his own conclusions from it. He slowly pulls his hand away from Sirius' shoulder.

“I didn't know,” Sirius then says.

“Didn't know what?” Remus asks.

Sirius looks frustrated. Remus is still standing way too close to him.

“I didn't know that you,” Sirius says and gulps in a big breath of air before swallowing it. “I didn't even know you like men.”

Remus didn't expect that. He stares, brows raised, and he's not sure if the look on Sirius' face is annoyance or regret.

“I thought you knew,” Remus says. “I thought it was rather obvious.”

“There was nothing obvious about it!”

Sirius finally looks away and takes a step back, but he can't get far because the sofa is on the way.

“Why didn't you tell me?” Sirius asks.

“Tell you what? That I'm gay?” Remus asks in return and laughs, and it feels hollow in his chest. “I thought it was obvious after I asked you out on a date.”

“What?” Sirius exclaims. He closes his eyes and rubs his hands over his face, grimacing when he hits his nose. Behind his hands, he whispers, “When did you ask me out on a date?”

Remus wants to sigh but forces himself not to. He takes in the sight of Sirius standing there, shoulders hunched and face hidden behind his hands. His knuckles are raw. He's still too close.

“I asked you to go to Hogsmeade with me,” Remus says. “At the beginning of seventh year. You said no, so I let it go.”

Sirius slides his hands down to expose his wide eyes. He looks horrified.

“That was you asking me on a date?” he asks, voice still muffled behind his hands. He moves them to his cheeks. “I didn't realise! I thought you wanted to go as friends, like always. I didn't… Why didn't you… why didn't you even ask for an explanation?”

“But you did explain,” Remus says. “You said you didn't want to. That is reason enough. I thought you meant you didn't want to go on a date with me.”

“But didn’t you want to know why?” Sirius asks insistently.

Remus’ cheeks burn and he averts his eyes, still not moving away from Sirius, though.

“I didn’t exactly fancy,” he says quietly, “hearing you tell me that being a werewolf–”

“Remus!” Sirius says so decisively that Remus can’t help but shut his mouth. “How could you think that I would ever turn you down because of the werewolf thing? I would never – and I mean never – turn you down because of that. Never.”

“Well,” Remus says quietly. “I’m sorry that it’s one of my biggest fears.”

Remus is looking down and it’s not a good idea because Sirius is not wearing a shirt. He reluctantly pulls his eyes away, not too keen on looking at anywhere else in the room either, because it is always a reminder that this is the best Remus can get, this is the best he can have because he’s a werewolf. He slowly turns to look at Sirius’ face. Sirius is watching him.

“What the fuck,” Sirius whispers.

“What the fuck, indeed,” Remus agrees.

They're staring at each other. Sirius' eyes are wild and big. It suddenly occurs to Remus how young he looks, how young they both still are. Sirius might be turning 20 in a few months, but he is still so, so young.

“Why did you have to tell me now,” Sirius whispers. “Why now that I can't… I'm… I have a boyfriend.”

“I'm sorry,” Remus says.

Sirius shakes his head but doesn't say anything else. They are standing too close together, and Remus takes a step back. The corners of Sirius' mouth drop lower.

“Paul being older doesn’t mean that everything he does is right,” Remus says.

Sirius frowns and lowers his hands from his face.

“I'm not stupid,” he says, but it's without heat.

Remus takes one more step away from Sirius to be an acceptable, friendly distance away from him. Sirius' posture is stiff.

“You can't tell James or Peter,” Sirius says then.

Remus almost wants to point out that the request implies that Sirius does, in fact, know that what Paul is doing isn't right, but he bites his lip and nods.

“Promise me?” Sirius asks, voice barely above a whisper.

“I promise,” Remus says, and then adds, “You were never going to tell any of us, were you?”

Sirius turns to look towards the door. It is answer enough.

“I need to go home,” he says. “Paul will be wondering where I went.”

Sirius pulls his shirt back on. Remus wants to grab a hold of his wrist and stop him, keep him from going back to Paul. Instead, he raises his hand, touches Sirius' shoulder softly, and then backs away. Sirius heads towards the door. Before opening it, he stops.

“See you later, Moony,” he says.

Remus' flat feels too quiet after Sirius is gone.

* * *

The knocking on Remus' door is so loud that the neighbours must hear it too. Remus hurries to it, hoping that no one will complain if he deals with it quickly enough.

He opens the door only to be nearly bowled over by Sirius.

“Moony,” Sirius gasps.

Remus stands back and lets Sirius enter. There is an odd glint in Sirius' eyes, his hair is dishevelled, his shirt is on backwards, and he's carrying a box.

“What’s happened?” Remus asks as he closes the door.

Sirius looks around like he isn’t entirely sure where he is. It has been a couple of weeks since Remus last saw Sirius. The bruise from under his eye is gone and his knuckles have healed. Remus wonders if the rest of the bruises are gone too or if they have been replaced by new ones.

During the weeks of silence from Sirius, Remus has tried his hardest not to think about him, not to imagine what Paul is doing to cause Sirius such bruises, not to envision Sirius being pushed around until he breaks his nose, but he hasn’t been able to stop; he's already started learning to live with the silent, cold dread that has kept growing inside him, the now-familiar boulder constantly weighing him down and making his stomach ache with worry.

Sirius turns to look at him, eyes sharper now, and says in a rush of words, “I Obliviated him.”

A beat of silence.

“What?” Remus asks. “Why? How?”

Sirius barks out a laugh and it's hollow, the manic glint still present in his eyes.

“It was an accident,” he says.

“You don't just accidentally Obliviate people!”

Sirius laughs again. He laughs so hard that he bends over, lets the box slip from his hands. It loudly clatters to the floor. It sounds full. Sirius doesn't stop laughing. He's gasping for breath, wraps his arms around his middle and laughs. Remus can't think to do anything but stare before Sirius' laughs turn to sobs, heavy drops of tears falling onto the box by his feet.

“Come sit down,” Remus says.

He guides Sirius to sit down on the sofa. After a moment's hesitation, he sits down next to Sirius. Sirius immediately leans against him, pressing his face into the crook of his neck, and Remus wraps his arms firmly around Sirius' shaking shoulders. He strokes Sirius' back but can't say anything, fear lodged in his throat.

What can have happened? Did Paul try to do something worse than punch Sirius in the face? Sirius has dated Paul for nearly a full year, they have lived together for eight months. How much has Sirius had to endure during that time? What could have been enough to make him finally defend himself?

How did he accidentally Obliviate Paul?

“What if the Ministry comes after me?” Sirius sobs against Remus' neck.

“Well,” Remus says slowly, “what exactly did you wipe out of his mind? Is he still okay and able to function normally?”

Sirius draws in a shaky breath, then another, then another, but he's clearly starting to calm down. Remus pulls him closer.

“I think he was okay,” Sirius says quietly. “I'm not sure.”

“They might not even know,” Remus says. “If he still seems like he's fine, they might not even realise that something happened.”

“But what if I screwed up?” Sirius asks, sobbing again, then forcing himself to calm down by gasping for air. “What if they come for me? What kind of a punishment would I get?”

“Sirius,” Remus says firmly and pulls away just enough to see Sirius' face. “What happened?”

Sirius looks devastating with his red eyes and wet cheeks and wobbly lower lip. Remus wishes that he could remove all the hurt, that Sirius would never have to feel pain again.

Sirius sniffles before saying, “He was really angry when I got back home.”

Remus' face drops, the boulder in his gut making itself known again.

“How do you mean?” he asks, apprehensive, still unsure if he really wants to know.

“Well,” Sirius says and wipes his eyes with a fist, “of course, he asked me where I had been because he was worried.”

Remus bites his lip hard to keep from commenting.

“And I told him I had come to see you,” Sirius says. “And he was upset about that because… because he knows that I used to… that I used to fancy you. That I still fancy you.”

Remus knows that Sirius wants him to say something, but he doesn't know what to say. Sure, Sirius did imply that he had once returned Remus' feelings, but to be told that he still does, to hear it said so clearly, is completely different.

“He was whiny about it for days,” Sirius continues after a while, turning his eyes down. “He said I'd been cheating on him, so I had to stay away from you for a bit to calm him down, and, you know, prove that I was faithful.”

Remus bites his lip harder.

“Then James asked me to go out for a pint with him,” Sirius says. “I asked Paul and he said it was okay. I was getting ready to go when he got difficult again. He said that my shirt was too sexy for a friendly pint and that I was really coming to see you and I was sleeping around behind his back and… He wouldn't stop even though I took the shirt off and said I'd wear a different one and then… He pushed me, and I don't know what happened, I just got my wand out and… Obliviated him.”

Remus has to stop biting his lip in order to talk, but then he finds he isn't sure what to say. He looks at Sirius who has his head still tilted down, hair messy and his usually pale cheeks red.

“What did you target exactly?” Remus finally manages to ask. “What memories?”

Sirius slowly raises his eyes. They're still wet and red, but he seems to have calmed down for good.

“Anything about me,” he says. “About us together. Then I gathered all my things and just…”

Remus feels awkward under Sirius' intense gaze. He still has his arms around Sirius' shoulders, but it's starting to feel clumsy and uncomfortable. He doesn't dare let go.

“I came here,” Sirius says quietly. “I didn't know where else to go.”

Remus smiles as well as he can manage with so many emotions churning in his gut.

“You are always welcome here,” he says. “Whenever you need it. I will always be your friend.”

Sirius smiles unsteadily and blinks a few times, unlodging a tear that immediately slides over his cheekbone. Remus catches it with his thumb.

“Just my friend?” Sirius asks, voice barely louder than a whisper.

Remus looks at him. He's still the same Sirius Remus fell for years earlier, still just as beautiful, just as wonderful and kind, if sometimes thoughtless. He strokes Sirius' cheek gently.

“I don't think it's a good idea for you to start a new relationship immediately,” he says quietly. “You should recover from this first.”

Sirius looks clearly disappointed, but he nods.

“I will be there for you,” Remus says, “as a friend. And maybe later as something more. But for now, I think what you need is a friend.”

Sirius' lips are trembling, but he manages a small smile. He closes his eyes for a moment, then opens them to look Remus in the eye.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks. “Just once? Just in case we never become something more?”

Remus knows he should say no. He knows it's a bad idea. But Sirius is looking at him with his puppy-dog eyes, face still wet with tears, hair dishevelled and shirt on backwards, and Remus has never been good at saying no to Sirius. Remus leans forward.

“Just once,” he whispers before closing the distance between them.

The kiss is soft, not much more than a brush of their lips, and it's wet and the most unsexy thing Remus has ever experienced, but it makes his heart soar. It's over quickly, but they remain close, foreheads pressed against one another and the tips of their noses bumping together as they breathe, neither of them willing to pull away.

Remus still has a hand on Sirius' cheek, fingertips dipping into Sirius' soft hair. Sirius is grasping at Remus' shirt like he might otherwise lose him.

“Thank you,” Sirius says. “Not just for… for this. But for everything.”

Remus smiles, brushes their lips together once more, then pulls back enough to properly look at Sirius.

“You're welcome,” he says.

He strokes Sirius' cheek with his thumb and notices immediately when Sirius' gaze drops to his lips. He can't help looking at Sirius' lips in return.

Before either of them can move closer again, there is a frantic knock on the door. Sirius' head snaps up, a look of horror on his face.

“You stay here,” Remus says and gets up.

Sirius looks like he's going to protest, but Remus squeezes his shoulder, and he slumps against the sofa with a small pout on his face. It doesn't quite hide the fear in his eyes. Remus takes his wand in hand and slowly heads to the door. Someone's still knocking loudly.

Remus carefully eases the door open and comes face to face with a panicky James.

“Remus,” James gasps and pushes his way in. “Do you know where Sirius is? He was supposed to meet me, but he never showed up and I realised I still don't know where he and Paul live so I couldn't go over there, but I tried calling and there was no one home and…”

James lets his words trail off when he catches sight of Sirius, who looks startled and still very much like he's just recently been crying. James quickly glances at Remus before striding over to Sirius.

“What happened?” James asks, voice much calmer but still equally worried.

Remus closes the door, pushes Sirius' box out of the way, and makes his way back to the sofa where James has settled very close to Sirius. Sirius looks at Remus and Remus flashes him a smile.

 _Friends_ , he mouths at Sirius, whose answering smile is already close to his usual smirk.

Remus helps Sirius tell James what happened, then helps Sirius talk James out of paying Paul a visit. When Sirius laughs genuinely at something James says, the boulder in Remus' stomach dissolves completely and he feels like he can breathe freely again.

Sirius is safe and happy, and that’s all that matters.

**Author's Note:**

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